


Sunrise On Heidrun

by WhiteCeilings



Series: The Steve Rogers Guide (And Associated Works) [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Best Friends, Bondage, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes-centric, Casual Sex, Dom Sam Wilson, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Open Relationships, POV Bucky Barnes, Prequel, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Peter Quill, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Sub Peter Parker, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-23 17:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteCeilings/pseuds/WhiteCeilings
Summary: Prequel to The Steve Rogers Guide To Dealing With It.Bucky has just moved to Heidrun and there's a lot to deal with. Sam, the guy who just won't leave him alone. His own trauma, which makes things like removing his mask or being disarmed in public feel impossible. And of course, slavery. On this planet, slavery is a thing.Includes all the answers to your burning questions such as: What was life like for Quill? What's the deal with Fenris? And what was Bucky's relationship with Peter before Steve came into the picture?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at the tags! This story definitely has some darkness, including coerced sex (explicit), major character death (not explicit), and all of the general violations that fall under the slavery umbrella. It is also implied that Peter may be underage, and though no conclusive age is given, he is still forced to engage in sexual activities. 
> 
> On a less depressing note, thank you JadenRay64 for beta-ing this for me! I think this oneshot turned out super cool and I hope you enjoy!

Sam Wilson didn't befriend Bucky as much as adopt him. It was as if Bucky was a stray dog that he saw one day and went  _ you, you are going to be my new project.  _

For Bucky's part, he did his best to avoid Sam-- at least the first few times. He didn’t want people to see him, find him, recognize him. Didn’t want people to know his face and call him by name. 

The first few times, it was hard to push down the part inside of him that said _he is a_ threat, _acceptable_ _collateral damage._ His training told him that there was only one thing to do with threats like Wilson, but his Self, the piece inside him that wanted to be called _Bucky_ , was stronger. The Self didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. 

So he didn’t. 

One day, Bucky was in the market when Sam came up to him. He probably thought he was being sneaky but Bucky could hear his footsteps coming up at his side. His shoes echoed strangely and hell— 

“Are those clogs?” Bucky asked, looking away in embarrassment. “Don’t tell me those are fucking  _ clogs. _ ”

Sam didn’t even look ashamed, the bastard. He raised one foot, rotating it to show off his new atrocious footwear. “Yeah! It’s the new thing, what do you think?”

Bucky looked at him, trying to judge if he was being genuine or not. He was, which really shouldn’t have surprised him. Sam was always genuine, even when it was better not to be. Authenticity stood out but then again, so did Wilson. Bucky took a moment to appreciate today’s outfit, which consisted of a red leather vest, green sleeves that went from wrists to biceps, and baggy harem pants. And of course. The fucking clogs. 

“My eyes hurt,” Bucky complained, diverting his gaze once more. 

Sam, of course, remained undeterred. “Beauty does that. You’re lucky you have those goggles, otherwise my presence may be too much for your mortal mind.”

“‘M not mortal,” Bucky complained. “Just new.”

“Well, in that case you need a guide. Tell you what; I’m having some friends over tonight, you should come. You can introduce yourself around, it’ll be fun.”

Bucky shook his head. “No. I don’t do parties.” He could barely handle being in this marketplace, and no one here was looking at him, assessing him. He could leave this place whenever he wanted.

Sam just shrugged. “Fine. How about you come over now? I’m free for the rest of the afternoon.”

Bucky shook his head again. This man was ridiculous. What did he even want from Bucky? Bucky had some funds from Hydra but not much. Maybe Sam wanted him for his skills, except Bucky hadn’t exactly been advertising them. 

Or maybe… it was possible… Sam was just looking for an ally. And Bucky could use one of those right about now, even if the thought was painful.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I have an hour.”

Sam grinned.

  
  


——————————

  
  


Sam had two slaves: a guy named Quill, and a girl— or something like that— named Nebula. One of the first questions he asked Bucky was when he was getting a slave and he seemed sincerely surprised when Bucky said he  _ wasn’t _ getting one. It wasn’t that Bucky minded the slavery thing that much; it just wasn’t for him. Having a slave meant having someone he would have to be aware of every second of every day, someone who would watch him and go near him and ask things of him. Sure, they came with benefits, but no benefit was worth a lack of privacy. Bucky had just escaped a life of being looked at under a microscope, and he wasn’t keen to return to it. 

Sam got over it quickly enough, though. He encouraged Bucky to interact with his slaves, which Bucky stauntly refused… the first few times. Then he gave into the persuasion, letting the blue girl bring him drinks and the blond man rub his feet. He stayed tense the whole time but Sam just laughed. “You’re getting used to it,” he said. “Call it repeated exposure conditioning.”

As it turned out, Sam was a counselor with a degree in psychoanalysis and behavioral therapy. He recommended Bucky get a counselor practically every week but Bucky knew he didn’t actually want that. If Bucky got a counselor, he would no longer be Sam’s little project. 

And Bucky was Sam’s project, that much was clear. Bucky would’ve objected except it was actually helping him. Sam didn’t make him take off his mask or wear his weird clothes; he didn’t force him to get a slave or have sex with his slaves; he didn’t schedule an appointment with a counselor or stage an intervention. He just gave advice, pointed out things he noticed, suggested options Bucky never would have considered. Sam taught him how to live with himself. He taught him that there were strengths in his weaknesses; Sam couldn’t stand to be alone, for instance but Bucky could. Therefore, Bucky could handle a job that Sam couldn’t. Through Sam, Bucky found farming, a calming exact science that he could spend hours working at. It tired his restless body and forced him into a routine. It also meant that Bucky’s new home was outside of the city which helped him sleep better at night. 

Sam was also the one who suggested Bucky apply to be a citizen soldier. “You have military background— don’t give me that face, I know it when I see it, and you don’t have to tell me about it. But I’ve seen your concealed weapons, and sooner or later someone else will notice them and you’ll get a ticket. If you become a citizen soldier, you’ll just need to take a short course and then you’ll be allowed to carry openly. Plus, it comes with a paycheck. Your farm is just getting off the ground, don’t tell me you don’t want the extra money.”

So Bucky took the course, learning basic Heidrian politics and their specific approach to a justice system. He graduated and Sam took him gun shopping, helping him buy the most gorgeous assault rifle Bucky’d ever laid his eyes on. 

Having the gun on him, large and visible, whenever he went out in public was a bigger relief than he ever could have imagined. Finally, other people could realize just how dangerous he was. The gun was a sign to everyone around him to  _ back off.  _

It was like he could finally breathe. 

  
  


——————————

  
  


The first time Sam saw Bucky without his mask on, Bucky was practically on his death bed. 

Sam had texted and called multiple times in multiple days with no reply. A normal person would assume that meant Bucky wanted to be  _ left the hell alone, goddamnit  _ but not Sam. Instead, he came to Bucky’s house, knocked on his door, and when there was no answer, let himself inside. Bucky had allowed Sam to input his own biometrics into the system which was a clear oversight. Unfortunately, Bucky wasn’t able to right that wrong at the moment, because he was too busy sweating out every toxin that had ever entered his body. 

Sam came into his room and immediately froze, making a noise at the back of his throat. Bucky hadn’t even noticed him coming in—  _ that’s _ how far gone he was. He was still present enough to know that he wasn’t wearing his mask and groaned, rolling over to hide his face. “Get out of my house!” He yelled.

Sam didn’t leave. “You look… shit man, are you okay?”

“I’m  _ fine,  _ go away!”

“You look sick.”

Bucky hissed. “I’m  _ not,  _ I’m just—”

His migraine reached a new high and he whimpered, pushing himself harder against the bed to ground him. In an instant, Sam was at his side, rubbing his back maternally. “Shh, Shh. It’s gonna be alright.”

Bucky kept his entire body clenched down as he rode out this new wave of agony. Finally, it was over, bringing him down to baseline levels of excruciating pain and he looked up at Sam. Sam looked a little startled to see his face for the first time, completely uncovered, but he schooled his expression quickly enough. “Hey, man. We need to get you to the hospital.”

It was such a Sam way to say it. He didn’t go ‘you need to go to the hospital’ or ‘you should have gone to the hospital’, but ‘ _ we  _ need to  _ get you  _ to the hospital’. He invited himself along with his words, making it so instead of having Bucky feeling guilty about asking, Bucky felt too pressured to say no. Which, in truth, he really, really didn’t want. He was used to being alone, but if he spent another minute in this state without another soul nearby, he would lose his mind. 

Sam helped him get into his car and as soon as Bucky started panicking about his mask, Sam went to retrieve it, no questions. Bucky had to take it off again once they were in an individual suite, but it had kept his face hidden from prying eyes of the people in the waiting room, so he counted it as a win.

After that, Sam continued same as ever, never asking him to take his mask off or show him his real face. He also didn’t comment when Bucky came over one day and left his goggles at the door. 

  
  


—————————

  
  


From time to time, Sam still tried to pressure Bucky into getting a slave. “Just think of all the benefits,” he’d say, low and seductive. “You could get someone to help you on your farm. It’s gotta get pretty lonely over there…”

Bucky didn’t need any help and he wasn’t lonely. He saw Sam at least once every two weeks and that was enough for him. But still, there was something appealing about the idea…

The next time Sam suggested they hang out, Bucky requested Sam pick him up from his farm. When Sam got there, Bucky lead him out to the barn, where there were noises coming from one stall in particular. 

“I thought about what you said, how I should get some company,” Bucky said seriously, leading Sam to the stall. “I decided you were right.”

Sam peered over, his brows immediately creasing as he looked inside. “Barnes… that’s a dog.”

Inside the stall, Fenris barked, jumping up on his hind legs to try and get over the gate. It was futile, especially since Fenris was still barely knee-high. 

Bucky grinned. “He’s just a puppy.”

—————————

  
  


Eventually, Bucky allowed himself to go to one of Sam’s parties. It wasn’t one of his big ones— really, it was just two people besides them: a woman named Valkyrie and a man named Doctor Strange. Strange didn’t have any slaves but Valkyrie had a girl with green skin named Gamora. Bucky watched her out of the corner of his eye, observing how she waited for the conversation to get underway before asking her master for permission to leave. Valkyrie pulled her down into a slightly drunken kiss then shoved her away. Gamora didn’t even seem surprised and as soon as she was balanced she went and sought out Quill. 

Bucky didn’t just watch the slaves, though. He also kept an eye on the other masters. Valkyrie drank like she was trying to store it for later, but smiled and laughed a lot, roughhousing with the others. She gave Bucky his space though, only intruding on him with questions, not touch, which was preferable. Strange was also interesting, though he wasn’t quite as rambunctious. He also seemed slightly touch adverse, though that may have just been in comparison to Sam and Valkyrie. Besides that, he was calm and collected with interesting things to say and an overall companionable attitude. Before meeting them, Bucky had assumed Sam’s friends were just as exuberant and over-the-top as he was but they weren’t. They were just nice, normal people and they didn’t seem to mind when he kept his answers short, his smile hidden.

“They’re good people, right?” Sam asked that night. They were in bed together, which wasn’t unusual. Sam was a good bedmate even when they were just sleeping. Bucky had thought that he’d want to be alone after the party, but it had been such a success he was more than willing to engage in Sam’s favorite activity: fucking. He’d ridden Sam until they both came but that had been nearly twenty minutes ago. Now they just laid together, comfortable under the sheets. 

Bucky no longer wore the mask with him. As soon as the others had left and the bedroom door had closed, in fact, it was stripped off. 

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured, his metal arm under his head. “Great people. So much better than you.”

Sam laughed and shoved him, and Bucky grabbed the back of his head in retaliation, pulling him into a bruising kiss. Sam gave just as good as he got, wrapping his hands around Bucky’s skull and shoving his thigh in between Bucky’s legs. After a few moments of heavy kissing, he rolled on top of Bucky, rocking against him. 

“Holy shit,” Bucky muttered, kicking his thigh away. “Already?”

Sam just kept smiling. “I’ve got a fast refractory period,” he said, not for the first time. “Come on, I want to go again.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shoving him off. “Not on your life. Why don’t you get one of your slaves over here? I’m sure they’d be more than willing to suck your greedy dick.”

“My dick isn’t greedy, you just have the stamina of an old man,” Sam teased. He raised his voice, projecting outside of the room “Quill, get in here!”

“I  _ am  _ an old man,” Bucky grumbled.

Quill came in, already shirtless. Sam regarded him coldly. “Are you stretched?”

“No, master.” 

“A shame. Come here, bring the lube.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to stretch him?”

Sam waved his worries aside, propping his head up with pillows and gesturing to Quill where he wanted him to go. “It’s fine, I already fucked him this morning. Besides, he’s already sloppy. C’mon Quill, stop being so lazy.”

Quill was naked by that point and had managed to slick his own hole as well as Sam’s dick up. He crawled over to Sam, straddling his hips and taking ahold of his dick to direct it in. He squeezed his eyes shut at the painful initial stretch but Sam just pressed his hand against Quills’ thigh lazily, pushing him down faster. Bucky watched as Quill bottomed out, then pulled himself back up and started again, quicker this time, establishing a rhythm. 

“What do you get out of fucking slaves that you don’t get from me?” Bucky asked, still watching in wonder. 

Sam was starting to sweat again, but he had no problems speaking even as the slave continued to ride his cock. “Besides the convenience, you mean? It’s fun. They let you do whatever you want to them because they know what’ll happen if they disobey. Isn’t that right?” 

He grabbed Quill’s hair and yanked backwards, causing him to yelp. “Yes Master! Anything you want.”

Sam hummed but didn’t praise the correct response any further than that. “They also aren’t demanding, unlike  _ someone _ I know.”

Bucky slapped his thigh, too tired to get defensive. “Whatever. I’m gonna go get ready for bed.”

“You could always join us,” Sam offered again, giving Bucky a hopeful look. “Or I could call Nebula over—”

Quill wailed loudly, thrusting himself all the way down on Sam’s dick. Sam threw his head back, mouth open in a silent moan. Bucky took the opportunity to get out of the bed and head to the bathroom. “I told you, I’m an old man,” he said, knowing that Sam was only half-hearing him. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Sam mumbled something in agreement, latching on to Quill’s hips and drilling into him faster. Bucky wondered if Sam knew what Quill was doing, how he’d purposefully distracted Sam so he wouldn’t call Gamora in. If not, Bucky wasn’t going to tell him. That drama was between them; Bucky didn’t own a slave and would never own a slave so it was none of his business. 

  
  


—————————

  
  


Surprisingly enough, it was only a few weeks later that Sam was dragging Bucky along with him to pick up his new slave. Bucky had protested wildly— “Seriously? Three slaves? Come on Sam, you’ve got to admit that’s ridiculous”— but Sam hadn’t cared. If Bucky didn’t go then Valkyrie would and Bucky couldn’t have her taking over his role of best friend, so really, he had no choice. 

The new slave was all Sam could talk about on the way over. Apparently, he was a ‘specimen’. He’d formerly been owned by another master but there had been an incident which landed that master in the hospital and the slave in a training facility where he’d spent the past six weeks. “Oh yeah, that sounds smart,” Bucky mocked. “As long as he’s not  _ violent  _ or anything.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “He’s not  _ violent.  _ He had one bad incident and has been training for weeks. Do you know how expensive training facilities are? If I wanted to send Quill there, I’d have to sell my car. But because he was sent there as a result of a violent incident, he’s actually  _ discounted  _ from what he’d normally be!”

“You’re stupid,” Bucky complained, absolutely no weight behind his words. 

“Maybe. But you should’ve seen the pictures, God they were hot. You’ll see in a few minutes, we’re almost there.”

They arrived at the facility right on schedule and only had to wait a little longer before the appropriate paperwork went through and they were lead up to the greeting room. Bucky expected to see a slave much like Quill, sitting on a chair or couch ready to talk to them, maybe show off his fancy training. Instead, they walked into a plain white room with only one feature in it: the slave, standing perfectly straight and still in the center. He was much smaller than Quill and was done up tightly in latex straps. The rubbery material wrapped around his face, exposing his hair and nose but covering his ears, eyes, and mouth. The material was also stretched tightly around his waist, squeezing it as small as it would go. His arms were above his head to further stretch his body out, making him look as lean and delicate as possible. 

Sam walked a full circle around him before stopping at his side and grabbing the boy’s exposed cock. Immediately he yelped through the latex and jerked, trying to get away but ropes around his hands kept him in place. Bucky tried to ignore what the sight was doing to him— the small body, the panicked reaction, the utter helplessness of the bondage. Sam seldom had cause to tie Quill or Nebula up around Bucky and even in the few instances that he did, Bucky hadn’t felt much, seeing as he wasn’t particularly attracted to either slave. But this… this was different. There was something about Sam’s hand running over the bound slave’s ribs, the way the boy trembled as his thumb brushed his nipple that just… did it for Bucky. 

Sam must have seen the way he was looking at him because when Bucky made eye contact with him he was smiling like a snake. “And you said this was a bad idea,” he goaded. 

Bucky stepped a little closer, careful to keep his skin from brushing the boy’s. “What’s his name?” he asked dryly, cautious against saying anything else. 

Sam continued rubbing up and down the boy’s side. “His name is Peter.”

A horrible thought ran through Bucky. “Is he even of age?”

Sam shrugged, not taking his eyes off the boy. “We don’t have access to those records. But he’s old enough. Look at the way he twitches when I brush his cock— you’ve been around a bit, haven’t you Peter? You’re going to be good for me?”

Immediately, the words sent another rush of  _ want  _ down Bucky’s spine.  _ Good for me. You gonna be good for me? Yeah, that’s right. So good for me. _

__ Somehow, Bucky managed to drag Sam away from the boy for a few minutes so they could complete the paperwork and payment, by which point they were brought into a new room. The boy was lead in a moment later, his hands bound behind him and a leash attached to his obtrusive collar. He was wearing real clothes now and his face was no longer obscured. His eyes were red and his hair ruffled but he kept his eyes down, not putting up a fight. 

Sam looked like he wanted to eat him for breakfast. 

One of the handlers encouraged everyone to sit down then went over the things that they had subjected Peter to over the past weeks. They made recommendations to Sam on things he could do to manage Peter’s upkeep like making sure he was fed at consistent times and understood what his various roles and duties were. It was also suggested that Sam gave Peter adequate punishments when he was disorderly. 

“With all due respect, I already know all about slave upkeep,” Sam said smoothly. “I already have two.”

Peter looked up at that, his eyes going even wider than before. 

Finally, the handler gave Sam a few devices. They were basic bondage equipment, things to subdue Peter if necessary. Sam swiped all of them aside saying he didn’t need them and the handler agreed to all but one. 

“It is suggested in his particular case that you use this,” she said, pulling one of the objects back to the table’s center. “This is a spider gag. It holds the slaves mouth open. It can be used to limit language use but we recommend them especially for slaves with a history of, um… biting.”

Bucky looked up, taking in the slave’s guilty expression. A violent incident, a history of biting? Holy shit— this guy chopped someone’s dick off. 

With his  _ teeth.  _

__ Sam didn’t seem the least bit deterred, however. “So I just put this in when I fuck his mouth?”

“Exactly,” the handler said, sounding relieved. “Many masters who have slave’s without behavioral issues choose to use it as well, just as a personal preference. Also, of course, he  _ has  _ been trained out of his bad habits. We just recommend it to be safe.”

  
  


——————————

  
  


They lead Peter out to the car after that and Sam got in the driver’s seat while Bucky slid in the back to keep an eye on Peter, taking off his mask and setting it aside as he went. He sat in the middle seat with Peter up against the door and as Sam took a sharp turn out of the dirt parking lot, Bucky jerked his hand onto Peter’s thigh reflexively. The boy flinched but didn’t otherwise move, even though his hands were now bound in front of him. 

Huh. 

Bucky looked forwards, keeping his eye on the road and his hand on the boy’s thigh. It was small and soft under the loose-fitting pants and Bucky wondered idly how much hair he had there. 

“I’m guessing you’ve already told Quill and Nebula?” Bucky asked. He was pretty sure he knew the answer already but the silence was killing him. 

“Yeah, they know. They helped me get everything ready. Speaking of which, I was thinking of throwing a party in a few days, after he’s… gotten adjusted. It’d be a little bigger than just our group but I was still hoping you’d come.”

The car slowed to a stop at a dirt intersection and Bucky used it as an excuse to slide his hand further up the boy’s thigh on the inside. He stopped with his hand firm against the muscles there, one finger just barely brushing his clothed crotch. “I don’t know, Sam.”

“You should go! Come on, you don’t even have to stay for long. It’d mean a lot to me if you came. I’ll be showing off Peter’s new obedience, too.”

Bucky’s mouth felt dry. He rubbed his thumb against the boy’s crotch and he shifted like he was finally going to shove Bucky off but he was only turning to look out the window, a sullen expression on his face. “His obedience?”

“Yeah. Just tell me you’ll think about it?”

“I’ll think about it,” Bucky swore. 

The car fell into silence. It felt tense from Bucky’s perspective but that was only because he was waiting for either one of the others in the vehicle to react to what he was doing. He kept waiting for Sam to say something or for Peter to shove him away. Neither of them reacted though. 

Bucky kept his eyes on Peter as he pushed a little further, carefully pinching the waistband of his pants and sliding it down his thighs. He wasn’t wearing underwear which meant he hadn’t been given any. He had soft blond hair on his legs, so short it had probably been shaved at some point. 

Peter slowly tried to close his legs but Bucky forced them open again, patting the boy’s bare thigh as if to tell him to keep them that way. Peter glared out the window harder. If Bucky had to guess, he’d say Peter was working hard to keep from reacting. A dark part of his mind wondered what it would take to get a reaction out of him. 

He glanced up front where Sam’s eyes were focused on the road. He looked perfectly at ease and if he noticed or cared he didn’t show it. 

So, carefully, Bucky laid himself out along the backseat, took Peter’s cock in his hand, and swallowed Peter down.

Peter let out a small whimper before he could shove his fist in his mouth. In the front seat, Sam shifted. “Peter, you okay back there?”

Peter was quick to squeak a “Yes Master!”, his voice hoarse. 

“Good. Buck, is he telling the truth?” 

Bucky pulled off, a trail of spit following until it broke, falling back to Peter’s wet cockhead. “I think so,” Bucky said, looking up at the boy who stauntly refused to make eye contact. “He looks right as rain, if a little… stiff.”

Peter turned to glare at him, his face bright red. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” Sam lamented. “You should help Peter relax.”

Bucky nodded even though Sam couldn’t see him and went back down on Peter, making him do his biggest jerk yet. He held down his hips with his flesh arm, and used his metal arm to sneak up Peter’s shirt, trying to find his nipples. Peter pressed his bound arms against his body, trying to block his movement, but Bucky just gave an especially hard suck in punishment and the boy’s arms fell away. 

Bucky could tell when Peter was close to coming and despite his efforts, he didn’t actually want Peter to come in his mouth. He imagined what he would do in a different time, with a different partner; how he would let them come and then sit up, kissing them roughly and making them swallow it. He had half a mind to do that with Peter but he was already crossing a line by sucking him off in the first place.

Instead, Bucky rooted around the floor until he found a tissue box, grabbing two and giving Peter one last suck before pulling away and covering his cockhead with the tissues. Peter did a full-body jerk and came into the tissues, his head thrown back and his mouth open as if in pain. He remained completely silent. 

Bucky pulled the tissues away when he was done, pulling Peter’s pants back up. He looked at the wad in his hand, trying to find a good place to put it. “Talkative kid, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed immediately. His voice was just a little lower than normal. “You should do something about that.”

Bucky carefully pried Peter’s mouth open, holding him steady even when Peter tried to buck, pull away. Then Bucky carefully inserted the tissues in the boy’s mouth, careful of his fingers. “There,” he said breathily. “Now you can stop all your jabbering.”

Peter gave him a glare like he wanted to bite  _ Bucky’s  _ cock off too but didn’t respond otherwise. Bucky kept an eye on the boy’s hands but even though he had a relatively free range of motion (aside from the wrist cuffs), he didn’t reach up to take the gag out. 

Huh. It appeared as though the training facility was helpful after all. 

  
  


————————-

  
  


Bucky went home after they arrived at the house so Sam could get Peter acquainted. Bucky was sure to put his mask and goggles back on securely and while he stood in the back of the public transport truck, he kept one hand on the gun strap across his chest. 

It was a strange feeling, interacting with Peter. Instead of feeling like he was the one being moved, like he sometimes felt with Nebula and Quill, he felt like he was the one doing the moving, the one actually in charge. Their drink-carrying and foot-rubbing had felt like a punishment, something he had to endure to make Sam happy. But this… this was completely different. 

For the first time ever on this planet, Bucky felt every ounce of his strength, every implication of his appearance. He felt something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

He felt powerful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment what you think! The second part will be out within a few days. Along with this fic I am also working on a few other stories in the SRG 'verse, so if you have any requests/ideas, please let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

Sam invited Bucky over a few days later to check out Peter's progress. He seemed so excited about it that Bucky couldn't turn him away, even though he'd spent the entire night wrapped in nightmares. Hydra was gone from the earth but they weren't gone from his mind. Maybe they never would be. 

He patrolled his house and then his property, then sat on the couch with Fenris' head in his lap as he searched online for better security measures. He found some alarms that he could install that would alert him if the windows or doors were ever broken. It was a start.

While searching, Bucky's eyes kept drifting over to the slave’s quarters. It was a room that had already been built into the house when he came, with a bare bed, an empty closet, and a narrow window high up, like the type you'd find in a basement. One of the four walls was completely transparent, allowing a person to see every corner of the room. 

When buying the house, he'd planned on taking the glass wall down and turning the room into a library but in truth he didn't need more bookshelves than what could fit in his living room. Now, he'd been living in his house for months and the room had remained empty the entire time. 

He searched up  _ wall removal  _ and then instantly closed the tab. No, he should wait to decide on that later. He'd wait for a better day, when he could see clearly again instead of through the foggy lens of paranoia the Winter Soldier wore. Instead, he got up, patted Fenris goodbye, and went to catch a transport truck.

He didn't know what he was expecting when he walked into Sam's house but it wasn't this. Peter was the one to greet him at the door, kneeling with his knees splayed so his ass was on the ground. He was wearing a new collar, more natural looking clothes, and a small corset not tightened all the way. He smiled at Bucky as if he missed him. 

It was too much. Too much-- too many people recognizing him-- too much-- 

Bucky stripped off his goggles and dropped them in the boys lap as he strode past, not giving him another look. Sam was in the living room talking quietly to Quill, his tone serious but not accusatory. He heard Bucky's footsteps and turned, his smile dropping when he saw him. "What's wrong?" 

Sam knew something was wrong because Bucky was still wearing the mask. Bucky should've thought of that and left the mask with his goggles at the door. However, the thought of having his entire face exposed was too-- too-- too--

"Quill, get him some water," Sam snapped and the slave rushed into action. Sam lead Bucky over to the couch, his breaths audible through the mask as he tried to stop it,  _ no,  _ this is not  _ correct,  _ stop hyperventilating goddammit--

"Buck, I think we should take your mask off," Sam said, his voice still firm. His hands found the straps at the back of Bucky's head but didn't release them yet.

There were too many people, they would see, they would-- 

"No!" Bucky hissed, leaning his head back to open up his airways and blinking rapidly. He wanted the mask off, knew that would help, but they  _ would see.  _ "Too many people, they'll-- they'll see!" 

Sam frowned, his face hardening. "Slaves! Front and center." 

Immediately, all three of his slaves emerged, hurrying to stand in the middle of the living room. Quill gave Sam the water bottle first before getting into position. "Earthquake position," Sam continued. "Facing away from me." 

They all dropped to their hands and knees, covering their heads with their arms. Quill was the slowest one to get into position because he was too busy making sure Peter understood the command and did it correctly. Then they were all in position, their arms covering their ears, their eyes facing their knees, not seeing Bucky.

Bucky allowed Sam to take his mask off and help him with the water. Things were better now that the slaves couldn't see him. Too many eyes. Too many people knowing his face. 

That was when Bucky knew for sure he would never, ever be able to get a slave.

  
  


\--------------------------

  
  


The rest of the afternoon was spent on the couch watching Sam train. Peter was obedient but it was clear that he didn't want to be there. He would do the moves but he was sullen and hostile. 

Later in the day, Sam brought out a new device he'd found: a shock collar that emitted shocks at the press of a button. He was about to try it on Peter when Quill came over, begging for a turn. "Aww, sweet boy. You're jealous, aren't you? Just because I'm training the new slave doesn't mean I love you any less." 

That seemed to delight Quill, making him smile and bat his lashes up at Sam until he gave in, putting the collar on. Peter slunk away, released from duty. 

Bucky noticed a trend the next few times he came over. Quill was much more needy than before, desiring Sam's time like he needed it to exist. He would initiate sessions with Sam, gladly taking whatever Sam gave him. He would initiate sex, asking for it instead of waiting for Sam. 

It meant that Peter was more likely to be free. He often went and hid in the kitchen where he was concealed from view but could still come when called. But for the most part, he wasn't called, not when Quill was on duty. Quill did everything he could to take up Sam's entire attention, like if he could make himself Sam's entire world then Sam wouldn't bother with the other slaves. It was a noble pursuit, Bucky thought bitterly, but it wouldn't work. The other slaves would get their turns in time.

  
  


\---------------------------

  
  


Sam loved showing off his slaves to anyone and everyone. He was an exhibitionist at heart and his slaves were his hobbies, his passions, and his favorite things to play with. 

It was Valkyrie who suggested he create a video channel. Sam immediately latched onto the idea and threw himself in, making porn or training videos. He didn't film when Bucky was around, thank God. Still, sometimes Bucky went to his channel to see what he made. He couldn't help but be envious of Sam; everything was so easy for him. He handled his slaves like he'd been born to, giving instructions and showing them off with ease. Bucky could never do that. 

Sam still wanted to show them off in real life, however, and made an effort to get Bucky involved. "You were so good commanding Peter in the truck," he said. "I just want you to feel that again." 

So Bucky agreed and started giving Sam's slaves more orders. He still didn't let them have sex with him despite Sam's pressuring but would let them get close. Sometimes he ordered Nebula to come to him with a blindfold and once it was secured over her eyes, he would help her lay down over his lap, a constant presence, a reassuring weight. She didn't even seem to mind it which was a plus. Bucky didn't want to actually force her to do something she didn't want to do. 

Still, it was nice having her there. She was so relaxed, Bucky had a feeling she fell asleep some of the time. It wouldn't surprise him; Nebula emitted a sort of pride, like she knew Bucky was more scared of her than she was of him, and used it to her advantage. Bucky was pretty sure that was why Sam mostly used her for labor instead of for sex. 

Bucky didn't particularly want to have sex with her either, or with Quill. She was too powerful and he was too big. But Peter… he couldn't help thinking about his experience in the truck with Peter or about the way Peter looked, strung up from the ceiling. He tried to keep his thoughts under wraps but Sam still noticed anyways. 

"You know you can fuck him," he said one day. They were on the balcony that lead out from Sam's room, watching Quill and Peter rough-house on the grass below. Peter shrieked as Quill threw him over his shoulder. His smile, at the moment, was genuine. It was maybe the first time Bucky'd seen him really smile. 

If he ever got a slave, he would be the happiest slave around. He would--

Sam nudged Bucky, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You can fuck him," he said again. "Anytime you want. I just… I have so much, you know? And you're my friend. I just… I want to share it with you." 

Bucky sighed, resting his arms on the railing and his head on his arms. "I know." 

"You do want to fuck him, right? Because I saw you when we bought him. You really wanted him. What's changed?" 

Bucky stayed silent.

Sam watched him carefully. "Did it have anything to do with the handcuffs?" 

Bucky cringed and Sam guffawed. "It totally did! You're into bondage!" 

"I'm… I'm not," Bucky said but he didn't even manage to convince himself. He sighed. "I just… I like it when he's restrained, alright? When he's restrained, he's easier to… control." 

"Why didn't you say so? Come on, we can remedy this." He turned to the balcony, calling out "Peter! Come upstairs!" 

Peter looked up from where he was on the ground, Quill straddling him. Quill looked up too, quickly saying "Can I come too? Master, please, I need--" 

"No, I want both you and Nebula to stay downstairs unless I call for you. Peter, now!" 

Peter got up, scampering towards the door, and Sam pulled Bucky back from the balcony. They exited his room and then Sam brought Bucky into another room. It was filled floor to ceiling with implements to use on the slaves, both sexual and non-sexual. Bucky tried not to gawk.

"You leave this room unlocked?" He questioned, eyeing some of the various cuffs and restraints. 

"Yeah," Sam said easily. "Sometimes I want them to come and get something. What's the fun of having slaves if you have to do all the work yourself?" 

There was a knock on the doorframe and Sam didn't even look before saying "Peter, go to the bedroom and strip." Bucky looked though. He looked, meeting the boy's eyes. There was something there, a little bit of fear under the surface, and Bucky was hit with a wave of arousal. Peter was scared of  _ him.  _ He was the one making him feel that way. 

Sam brought Bucky's attention back to the devices, pointing out a few in specific. "We could do suspension if you want," he said. "It completely immobilizes the slave while still allowing them to be maneuvered." 

Bucky wanted to do that at some point but he also knew it would take a long time to set up. Instead, he pointed to a mass of pipes on a wooden board and Sam nodded. 

Peter's eyes widened in fear when he saw the device but he didn't move away. He was already naked, as instructed, his clothes folded to the side. 

"Bucky's in charge of this scene," Sam explained. "I expect you to follow his orders." 

"Yes, master." 

Bucky took a few minutes figuring the mass of tubes out and opening them up, before finally giving his first order. "Come here. Um. Kneel here." 

Peter obeyed, kneeling with his knees on the padded floor of the device. He had to hold on to the other pipes for balance as Bucky picked his ankles up, locking them in place a few inches above the ground. Then he positioned the padded rest so that Peter’s chest rested against it, and bound his behind his back. Peter made an upset noise at that but didn't protest. Finally, Bucky arranged some of the pipes over Peter's back, locking him in place against the chest-pad, and arranged more around his thighs separately. He was now trapped in a hands and knees position except his front half was supported by the chest pad with his arms behind him. 

"There's something else you can do," Sam said and showed Bucky where a few releases were. Then he cranked the bars holding Peter's legs up until his feet were facing the ceiling, his back arched. He was almost in a hogtie position, his feet resting near his hands on his back. 

There was only one last thing to do and Bucky did it himself: he pushed Peter's legs open, exposing his hole. Peter was beginning to struggle openly now, writhing against the restraints but he couldn't do anything. He was stuck, trapped against metal bars, his hole perfectly exposed. 

"I feel like we should just leave him like this," Bucky said, talking without thinking. 

Sam laughed. "I bet he'd like that. The cold air against his tight hole." As if to demonstrate, he poked a few fingers into the boy's puckered hole, just enough to spread him open. Peter whined, fighting against the restraints. Sam didn't let go until Peter gave in, going limp. Then he pulled away, looking more at ease than Bucky had seen him all day. "He's all yours. Are you okay stretching him?" 

  
  


\--------------------------

  
  


Over time, Bucky found ways to become more comfortable on Heidrun. Sam finally coerced him into getting a therapist who suggested small things that he could work on. She was the one who recommended that he sell his harvest in person at the market. She said he could wear his uniform with the mask and goggles and if he had a sign out from he wouldn't even have to speak. In the end, it wasn't bad at all. 

One day Valkyrie decided to help out and pulled up a chair under his canopy, directing her slave to kneel beside her. It turned out that Bucky didn't mind the company. Later, Sam came by with Quill and pulled up his own chair. They all talked and relaxed in the shade and Bucky watched Quill's hand slowly creep out until it was intertwined with Gamora's. She looked down, hiding a smile. 

Sam bought another slave, this one a boy named Miles. When asked about him, Sam just shrugged. "The house is always dirty and sometimes the others are too busy to clean. He's really just a labor slave." 

It was when he bought his next slave, a girl named MJ, that his video career really took off. He had five slaves, a truly ridiculous number. The more slaves he had, the more money people would pay to watch. Sam started becoming something of a celebrity. Bucky wanted to be annoyed but really, he couldn't; if anyone deserved to be famous, Sam did. 

Sam took a dip into the fashion world since now he was counted as an "influencer". Bucky didn't want to know who would be influenced by Sam's obnoxious outfits and bright colors but at least Sam liked it. Bucky found himself going through Sam's magazines sometimes. There wasn't much he was willing to do to change his look but at the very least he could help Sam be less of a disaster. 

In December Sam bought two more slaves and another in January, leaving him at a total of eight slaves. They were everywhere, constantly underfoot. Bucky got to a point where he agreed to go to parties with Sam but he immediately had to specify which  _ kind  _ of parties, after Sam brought him to an event where slaves were used freely. Sam's slaves were thrown in the mix and it took nearly twenty minutes for Bucky to catalogue them all. His eyes locked on Peter, who was currently on the lap of a bearded man, rolling his hips and smiling playfully. 

"You can have anyone you want," Sam promised Bucky, sitting at his side. Bucky didn't check to see who it was between Sam's legs. 

"Fine," Bucky huffed through the mask. "I want Peter."

Sam looked over, following Bucky's gaze. Instead of arguing, he just swallowed, nodding. "You want me to take him from Mr. Beck?" 

Bucky nodded and Sam got up, going over to the man. Quentin Beck looked peeved but he let Peter go without a fight. 

"I'm going to get us drinks," Sam declared, pushing Peter towards Bucky. "Keep them entertained?" 

'Them' meaning Peter and Quill, the latter of which still kneeling in front of Sam's chair. He was surprisingly loyal, especially given how little Sam seemed to care about him. His clothes that night were also humiliating; more so than any of Sam's other slaves. 

Peter climbed onto Bucky's lap like he'd been doing with the other man but now Bucky was distracted. "Kneel in between my legs, hands on your knees." He wasn't going to have the boy suck him off-- especially not after hearing about Peter's bite-- but the position should be convincing enough for wandering eyes. Peter obeyed and once he was in position Bucky manhandled him to look down then pressed metal and flesh hands against the boy's ears, blocking off all sound. Peter's hands jerked up but he caught himself just in time. 

Quill glanced over, looking worried. He pasted a cocky smile on his face, as if that would hide the discomfort in his eyes. "I promise you, he doesn't know what he's doing. Let me blow you. It's all I've been able to think about--" 

"I'm fine," Bucky cut him off. Quill nodded, some of the dejection showing through. "Does your master know why you do that? Or does he actually think you just can't get enough of him?" 

Quill gave him a cocky grin. "I don't know what you mean." 

"Yes. You do." Bucky started playing with Peter's hair, moving him around a little, a clear threat. "Tell me." 

Quill nodded, accepting it. "I just want the others to be safe." 

"By taking the worst of it for yourself?" 

"Don't act like it doesn't work." 

Then Sam was back and Quill was smiling that cheesy  _ I-missed-you-so-much  _ smile again. 

Bucky thought about what he'd said.  _ Don't act like it doesn't work.  _ The problem was: it didn't, not anymore. This wasn't Quill trying to protect just Nebula or just her and Peter; this was Quill trying to protect seven other slaves. Sam had already proved himself more than adept at finding ways to torment them all which was exemplified by this very party. 

\--------------------

In February, Sam did a week long special video series of humiliation and torment centralized around Quill. One video a day, each well over an hour long. 

\--------------------

In March, Bucky accidentally walked in on Quill and Gamora cuddling. They were wrapped in each other with Gamora holding him tight, her eyes wet with tears. Quill saw him first, eyes filling with panicked. Gamora saw him second, expression not filled with fear but with hatred. 

Bucky closed the door. He did not tell Sam.

\-----------------------

In April, Peter messed up. Sam gave him an order and instead of following it, Peter stumbled back. "No, master, please, please don't make me, I don't want to--" 

His punishment was swift and painful. Bucky was told to take Quill to the other room because he tried to get in the way. When he got back, the punishment was already over and Peter laid glassy-eyed in Sam's lap. "See?" Sam said. "He just needed a reminder. That's all."

Peter smiled a watery smile. "Thank you, master." 

\-----------------------

In May, Quill hung himself. 

Nebula found the body. Then Gamora found the body. Bucky took Gamora to another room and held her with a hand over her mouth while she screamed. 

\-----------------------

In June, things at the Wilson residence were much, much calmer. The slaves were more relaxed, Sam was less tense, and the overall atmosphere was better. 

Bucky stopped coming over as much. He developed a routine that wasn't so dependent on Sam. He did his own shopping. He tended his crops. He played with Fenris. 

"And why haven't you been spending as much time at Sam's house?" His therapist asked him after he'd told her what he'd done that week. 

He shrugged. "I guess… I don't like his slaves. I guess he just has too many. If I ever get a slave, I would only get one."

"They're a big responsibility," she agreed. "Do you see yourself ever getting a slave?" 

Bucky made an uncertain noise. He honestly didn't know. 

She took her glasses off, setting them on the table. "It's normal for friends to grow apart and it's clear you value your alone time. But if you plan on continuing this trend of lots of time spent at home, I would actually recommend you get a slave. I believe it would be healthy for you to have that daily interaction and that you'd be more comfortable given that it's with someone you have power over. What do you think?" 

  
  


\------------------------

  
  


At the end of June, Bucky told Sam his decision. He was so happy he dragged Bucky to the market and personally paid for an entire dresser filled with things for the slave. Then he went with Bucky to buy clothes. 

"Hey, you'll finally have someone you can dress up!" Sam teased. Bucky smiled. He wasn't wrong. That was actually one of the parts he was most excited about. If he saw one more slave dressed in Sam's horrible fashion, he was going to cry. 

  
  


\------------------

  
  


In July, Bucky went to a party with Sam. Sam brought along Peter who was his new favorite now that Quill was gone. Bucky watched Peter smile convincingly at Sam, tell him how much he wanted him, how much he loved him. Peter spent the rest of the night not on the floor but on Sam's lap, his arms wrapped loosely around his neck. 

  
  


\---------------------

At the end of July, Bucky stared at the glass-walled slave quarters he'd never managed to get rid of. Now it was much more lively with blankets on the bed, dresser in the corner, and closet full of clothes. 

Bucky stood, clipping his mask and goggles into place, and slinging on his gun. He gave the slave quarters one last look then left. Unbeknownst to him, that night when he looked through the glass wall, there would be a small blond boy looking right back at him. 

  
  


**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! New fics coming soon :)


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